


Central City Cryptid

by Android_And_Ale



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: And there's one web series brave enough to out him, Cisco's leather Vibe gear fools no one, Coffee Shop, Conspiracy Theories, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ghostfacers - Freeform, Harrisco Fest 2018, Harry's got a reputation, Jitters managers have arrangements with Team Flash, M/M, SPN - Freeform, harrisco, how Harrisco spend their Saturday's off, sometimes you get something so wrong you loop back around to being almost right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Android_And_Ale/pseuds/Android_And_Ale
Summary: SPN’s GhostFacers confront the talk, dark, and mysterious “Central City Cryptid”





	Central City Cryptid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BonitaBreezy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonitaBreezy/gifts).



> Welcome to the Harrisco/SPN Ghost Facers crossover no one asked for. I was inspired by a Harrisco Discord discussion about meta conspiracy theories where @BonitaBreezy jokingly referred to Harry as the “Central City Cryptid.” 
> 
> Enjoy the fluff!

“This week on Ghost Facers we’re finally tackling the one challenge you’ve tweeted us about the most!” Harry Spengler beams into ‘cameraman’ Kenny Spruce’s used iPhone. Budgets are tight.

“Getting real jobs?” asks Ed Zeddmore.

“No!” Spengler leans in close to the camera. Too close. No one needs to see the pores on his nose. “The elusive Central City Cryptid!”

Zeddmore looks confused. “We only got like four tweets about that dude. Most people want us to, let’s see, it says here, ‘ _fall into a tar pit and suffocate to death_ ’.”

A few tables away, the cinnamon skinned beauty Zeddmore knows he’ll never have the courage to chat up turns a head full of skillfully curled long black tresses. The wind gently brushes a lock back. Dark eyes narrow in their direction.

Spengler elbows him in the ribs and whispers. “Five bucks. I told you that was a dude.”

Zeddmore is still intrigued. There’s something about good hair and black leather.   
  
“Hey,” says Sexy Hair, “What was that you said about Tar Pit?”

“Actually, we’re here about something far more insidious!” Spengler beacons the rest of the Ghost Facers to follow him. Sexy Hair watches as they flatten their bodies on either side of Jitters doors.

Sexy Hair shakes his head. “Dude, you know those open out, right?”

“Inside these doors lurks a dangerous creature the citizens of Central City only dare speak about at night!” says Spengler.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” says Sexy Hair.

“The internet is on fire with rumors about a murderous mad scientist who faked his own death,” Spengler continues. A few people outside the coffee shop perk up. “Now, he haunts the very city where he was killed by his own creation.”

“Wait, is he really dead or just faking dead?” Zeddmore looks confused. “Because this would be a lot cooler if he was actually a ghost.”

Spengler ignores him. “Behind these doors lies--”

“Stands,” says Zeddmore. He just got a couple coffees.

“STANDS ... the Central City Cryptid!” Spengler flattens against the wall again, just in time for a lanky man dressed like a middle aged goth to absentmindedly elbow it open, hitting Zeddmore in the face. Spengler attempts to leap in front of him. The man in black nimbly ducks the other way. “See how he’s avoiding our questions!”

“I’m avoiding spilling my coffee,” he snaps back.

Spengler bats a cardboard sippy cup inscribed with a large ‘V’ out of his hand.

“Hey!” says Sexy Hair! “That was mine!”

“We’re here live,” Spengler’s voice lowers, “Confronting the legendary Central City Cryptid!”

“That can’t be one of your names.” The man in black stares at Sexy Hair, who shoots him his best innocent expression in return.

“Uh, we’re not live streaming this,” says Zeddmore. “Kenny doesn’t have enough data left on his phone.”

“We’re currently alive,” Spengler says, “And in Central City!” He tries to swat the remaining coffee out of the taller man’s hand, but the man in black literally holds the cardboard cup above his head while glaring Spengler down.

Spengler jumps for it a couple times then crosses his arms, panting and frustrated. “Tell us, **_Doctor Harrison Wells_ ** , what’s the real reason you’re manipulating the price of Bitcoin!”

Sexy Hair covers his face with one hand.

“You owe me a coffee.” The middle aged goth glares down at Spengler.

“Why did you rig Starling City’s election to make Oliver Queen mayor?” demands Spengler.

“What?” He looks at Sexy Hair, clearly confused.

“We know the government is locked in a secret conspiracy with the aliens YOU lured to our planet! Have you no shame!” Spengler bounces on his tiptopes in an attempt to intimidate the taller man.  

He elbows his way past Spengler.

“Look at that!” Spengler dramatically falls to the ground at his slightest touch. “He’s attacking the media! Are you getting this on camera!” The small crowd that’s slowly gathered around the scene chuckles at him.

The man in black pulls his baseball cap lower over his face as he takes a seat next to Sexy Hair, who slides a hand over his. “Baby, you know this wouldn’t happen if you’d get new glasses and wear colors other than black.”

He takes a long drink of his plain black coffee. “Stop. I’m not watching Queer Eye with you again.”

Spengler pulls himself to his knees and stretches an accusing arm at the man in black. “Why won’t you admit your crimes?”

“Against fashion!” Sexy Hair kicks his ankle. “They’re countless. Look at this,” he tugs at the other man’s loose black sweater. “It isn’t a style. You’re just lazy.”

“I’ve spent years perfecting this aesthetic and I’m not going to let --”

Sexy Hair cuts him off. “Goth scarecrow who buys all his clothes at the clearance sale four days after Halloween is not an aesthetic.”

Two women nearby start the crowd clapping.

Spengler waves his arms, frantically trying to silence the audience and regain control of the situation. “Tell us your real plans!”

Sexy Hair rests his chin in his hands, watching with wide eyes.

The man in black takes another deep drink of his plain black coffee. “I’m taking my boyfriend to Laser Tag so I can teach him how to power slide while holding a gun. Then Big Belly Burger. After that he’ll probably drift off on the couch while watching some science fiction movie he can quote in his sleep.”

“Do I ever actually do unconscious quote alongs?” asks Sexy Hair, batting his eyelashes.

“Why do you think you woke up in a ball gag last Wednesday?”

Sexy Hair waggles his eyebrows and grins.

A stunning woman in a tight bralet and yoga pants sets a new coffee next to the man in black. Her free hand lingers on his shoulder. “I added raspberry and cayenne,” she whispers. She bends in half, ostensibly to tie her shoe, and winks up at him from between her ankles.

He pushes the drink over to Sexy Hair, who squints at the neat cursive handwriting along one side. It reads, ‘HR, it’s been too long since we had your signature tattooed. Call me when you want to add more to the inscription. - Rhonda.’

Sexy Hair pushes the cup back at the man in black. “If you wanna hit that in H.R.’s honor, I will not judge you,” he whispers.

Spengler dusts his hands off on his thighs. Time to go big or go home. He shoves a palm flat against the man in black’s chest. “Admit it! You are the Central City Cryptid!”

“Hey!” Sexy Hair is instantly on his feet, teeth barred. “No touching without permission! Who raised you?”

Spengler roughly pushes Sexy Hair’s arms away. “Why did you fake your own death, Doctor Harrison Wells!”

The man in black takes another long drink of his coffee before calmly looking up at Sexy Hair. “You got this?”

Sexy Hair blows him a kiss. “Love you, baby.” His soft expression hardens as he turns back to  Spengler. “You and your crew need to back the fuck off so me and my man can get caffeinated before we go shoot a room full of kids.” He pauses, frowning. “With lasers.” He pauses again. “Not the dangerous kind.”

“Why are you protecting him?” Spenger demands. “He’s a murderer who destroyed your city!”

Rhonda looks up from her yoga pose. “Dude, that’s the plot of his third book. You’re confusing reality with fiction.”

The man in black shoots Rhonda a grateful smile. She winks, then lifts a leg straight up and flattens it against her chest, toe pointing upwards in an impressive standing splits. Kenny’s camera drifts towards her, though her face isn’t in frame.

“You think the real Harrison Wells would wear a baseball cap as his only disguise? I mean, the man was a billionaire,” says Rhonda.

“Who got blown up in his own building,” adds a heckler.

“So he IS a ghost!” Zeddmore sounds triumphant.

“Ghost _writer_ ,” says Rhonda.

The woman next to her says, “Wait, no, I thought H.R. Randolph wrote all his own books.” She turns accusingly to the man in black. “You’re not faking it, are you?”

“You heard it here on Ghost Facers! That man is faking it!” Spenger points a finger at the man in black’s chest.

“Can men fake it?” asks Sexy Hair.

“I can show you how,” Zeddmore tries on a seductive smile, then realizes what he just said.

The line inside Jitters looks impatient. Their coffees are cooling and they have places to be. A bedraggled manager pushes open the door and looks Sexy Hair over. “Cis--oh, wait. You’re in leather. _Vibe_ , we talked about this. If you block the entrance or cause property damage we’re going to have to bill you.”

“Sorry man.” Sexy Hair flashes the manager a sunshine smile. The manager isn’t impressed. The leather clad man’s stance widens. As he stretches his arms forward, the crowd all fall back. A few hold up their phones for a photo, but most of the regulars have seen this before.

Spengler’s eyes widen in shock as a swirling silver blue vortex opens in front of him.

“Bye bye now.”

The last thing he feels is a boot to his back before he falls face first into a sticky black tar pit. Seconds later, Zeddmore and Kenny fall on top of him.

“What the hell was that!” Spengler demands.

“Our best episode ever?” says Zeddmore.

“Where are we?” Spengler stares at the unfamiliar warehouse in shock. “You’re getting this, right?”

Kenny slowly turns 360 degrees before stopping on Spengler.

“Holy shit,” Zeddmore whispers. “The Winchesters aren’t gonna believe this.”

Spengler spreads more tar across his thighs as he tries to straighten himself out. “You wanted the truth? We delivered! Next week on Ghost Facers, we visit the secret headquarters of a traveling time ship in Starling City!”

Zeddmore tries to kick the tar. It makes a slurping sound as his leg sinks in up to his calf. “Aw, man. I miss it when we just hunted ghosts.”

“Well then you’re in luck, because this secret headquarters is home to the remains of an infamous pirate ship!” says Spengler.

“Oh. We’re going to the ‘Aaaaaart and History’ exhibit at the Queen Center for Asian Studies?” Zeddmore looks disappointed.

“Buck up, buccaneer! Our source says the Dread Pirate Jiwae still haunts that ship’s very halls, and late at night you can hear her scurvy crew fighting off Blackbeard!”

They stare at the camera together, faces sticky with tar and determination. End credits roll over their faces as they chant, “GHOST FACERS! We face the faceless! We face the dead!”

The camera wobbles a bit, then pendulums sickeningly as the three of them struggle to free themselves from the cold, sticky tar. “Uh, I hate to ask, but how are we getting home?”

 


End file.
